Welcome Back To America

I'll keep this short--expect more sports content in the coming days.
But my first act on American soil: Order a cheeseburger, extra ketchup (yes, Heinz).

My second act? Open my mail---apparently I am not out of the reach of the long arm of the Austrian law. That's right, the Klagenfurt police have mailed me a $250.00 dollar speeding ticket. Registered mail. Will I be paying?
Chicken McDoubt it.

Anyway, I'm back. And the celebrity death-toll has climbed to untold heights.--what the hell did you people do while I was gone?
Apparently no more moon-walking. Or OxyClean.

God bless America. And Wakefield's knuckle ball (apparently the good years start at 42)

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FWG: A Man and His Hot Dog

Perhaps the greatest of all the phalic-sympol sports, The Nathan's Fourth Of July Hot Dog Contest has come to embody the true American spirit: Overeating and dominating the Japanese. Today you can put a big check mark in the W column for the good ol' U.S of A. Taste it Japan.(As I type this from the Tuscan country side, the Italians are confused about my impromptu U-S-A! chants and why I keep asking for firecrackers. These boots are back on American soil on July 8th. Get excited.)

Out of the office...

I apologize for the lack of updates lately. I just returned from a coaching a youth football camp which is equal parts rewarding because of the excitement and the learning ability and comical because of the language, cultural differences and the fact that they are kids. An exchange:

- Nice job, but don't backpedal.
- I wasn't backpedaling, I was running backwards.
- (Stunned silence.)

And now I'm out for a two week holiday in Ireland while The Fat White Guy continues his romp around Europe with the ladyfriend. Follow him at twitter. I'm not that high tech. Nor do I possess the necessary discretion.

Happy Fourth ladies and gents. Eat, drink, and blow stuff up. Do it for America.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - Travel Edition

Once more proving my hunch that it's not even worth trying to make things up. Reality will top anything you dream up {Thanks to the ever vigilant Bee.}:

The Dog Ate My Passport

EAU CLAIRE, Wis. -- A Wisconsin teenager using a classic excuse for evading
schoolwork missed a class trip to Peru despite his tale being true: The dog
ate his passport.

Officials at Chicago's O'Hare airport told 17-year-old Jon Meier the
chewed-on document was fine, but authorities in Miami rejected it and wouldn't
let him board the southbound aircraft.

His family's 1-year-old golden retriever, Sunshine, chewed a corner of the
document, obscuring some numbers. Meier couldn't get another passport in time to
join the trip with his Spanish class from Eau Claire North High School. The
12-day trip ended Monday.

Meier says he can't blame anyone, not even Sunshine: "I love her too
much."

Let this be a lesson to all. Your passport is gold. You can lose anything and everything else and make the trip work as long as you have your traveling papers. Without it, not at all. Even with your sick money belt or fanny pack. {Also double check your travel date. Almost showed up on Monday for a Sunday flight. That probably wouldn't have worked out all that well. And I've walked through an airport trying to find a buddy who wouldn't arrive for another 24 hours. Not good things.}

If you don't have a passport, get one {You can't go to Canada or Mexico without one.} If you do, put it in a safe place outside of the dog's reach.

GOULET (somehow relate it back to UCONN...)

I was checking out Chuckie Hacks for some Brewers info and there was this post alluding to Will Ferrell as Robert Goulet. Very funny, but guy was funny in his own right doing NCAA basketball commercials in '95. Here's a taste:

'If you're not watching him, you don't know Dick!'

I could reach and say that there's a male UCONN cheerleader in the sixteenth video and there's probably a shot of Jimmy Calhoun Superhero {Not the Austrian doppelganger.} somewhere. Alright, I'll go ahead and do that.

But set aside ten minutes and bask in the awesomeness that is the real Robert Goulet. Thong song.

Lie to yourself to have fun

Lie to yourself.

Coach Mason said that more times than I can count at Minnesota. It's one of countless coaching catchphrases that is etched on my brain no matter how hard I try to forget. In essence it's a coachspeak plea to trick yourself into thinking that practice or lifting or running or whatever task was immediately in front of us that we had little particular interest in accomplishing and turn it into a productive session. Convince yourself it will be fun. And more often than not when the players just said, 'Screw it, let's act like little kids in the backyard', the practice turned out to be more enjoyable. And usually more productive.

On Saturday Djurgården came up short again this weekend, 21-7. Again it's the same refrain of missed opportunities and allowing big plays, but more than that we didn't have fun in the first half. We were outscored 21-0. The second half was fun. The score that half was 7-0 and by putting ourselves in a hole we had to chase a bit. Football is a game of emotion and having fun at it's primal level. Well, and violence. Lots and lots of {usually} controlled violence.

I only mention it because whatever we do, we do it either because we have to or we want to. If we want to do whatever activity, there's probably a bit of fun inherent in it. If we have to, we must do it anyway, so may as well make it fun, right?

Either way it can't hurt for you to lie to yourself in order to make it more fun, can it?

One more amusing thing about Sweden

A psychotic feminine shriek from a neighboring apartment after Sweden scored it's second goal against England in the under 21 soccer Championships. They have since equalized {Accompanied by frenzied dancing on the floor above.} after going down 3-0 in the first half.

For the 99% of people who don't care, the Swedish word for nipple is bröstvårtan - which translates to 'breast wart'. And the areola is 'breast wart field'.

Enjoy your weekend and entertain your friends with your new Swedish vocabulary.


This reinforces why I should not have a Twitter account {Or maybe I should? I see it as a Frankensteinian conglomeration of texting, blogging and emailing. I could be spot on or way off. I'm also not real concerned about this ambiguity. And the 140 character limit seems so constricting.}.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - Swedish Fashion

Why hello there.

A buddy showed up to practice wearing this yesterday. Yes, that is a salmon tee, shorts that are in fact incredibly short and not boxers - they have pockets and everything, hot pink old school Nikes and an old-school Nike pullover. He is a bit understated when considering the collective get-up of the entire Swedish male population.

The Russian Rocket said that shorts this summer should not come down to the knee {A piece of fashion advice I will likely be avoiding.} and he wanted to err on the side of caution. Methinks you're solid on that front. He also probably assembled this eclectic ensemble in the absence of light. But it provided a visual train wreck to gawk at and fodder for today's post.

In spite of my better judgment, I will continue to remain friends with him. I will, however, refrain from taking fashion advice.

Birthday and Subsequent Threats of Gun Violence

Today is the day when I will be threatened with execution by firing squad should I ever become a centenarian.

Let me explain.

Instead of the typical happy birthday song, Swedes sing "Ja, må du leva (uti hundrade år)" which translates to "Yes, may you live (to a hundred years old)". And instead of the "cha, cha, cha" or what have you, the cheeky Swedes add another verse threatening to put the celebratee on a stump and shoot them if they do, in fact, reach triple digits.

A bit morbid, but it amuses me. Although depending on how the last three-quarters of that quest goes, I may have to find someone to carry out a Denny Crane - Alan Shore arrangement:

Denny Crane: I don't fear death - never have. But I do fear being hooked up to a machine ... would you want to live like that?
Alan Shore: No, Denny, if it came to that, I'd pull the plug.
Denny Crane: Pull the plug? That's no way to die. I want you to shoot me!

For the record, if you can hear me speaking that's not the time. Thanks in advance.

Guest Blogger: CJ Marck

Facebook message from Rob Lunn to CJ Marck Dated June 18^th at 11:53 pm: “CJ how the hell are you man? Are you even alive? If so, would you like to be a guest blogger on my website and talk about what it is like to transfer schools and talk a little bit about your summer training?”

Well Lunn, I am alive, and barring contract negotiation I would be honored to write a little blurb. Please forgive in advance any of my attempts to be humorous, as I can not match Rob’s level of intelligence with the keyboard.

For those of you who don’t know me, I played with FWG during the 2007 and 2008 seasons at Connecticut. He has moved on to play professional in Europe (not be to be confused with Massachusetts High School Football) and I have transferred to Miami University, which is in Oxford, Ohio (yes people frequently ask me how I’m enjoying the sunny weather in Florida). My transfer was made prior to the International Bowl and I landed at Miami University in January. Before I start talking about some of the similarities and differences between the two programs, I just want to say that I have the utmost respect for UConn Football and the University of Connecticut. I am thankful for the opportunity Coach Edsall gave me to be a part of the Husky football program and I still have many close friends from the team who I will be cheering for every Saturday this fall.

Since I am from Pennsylvania, and Rob is from, of course, Upstate New York (throw up your U’s), it wasn’t uncommon for us to have the “better high school football state” discussion every now and then. After already being challenged to similar arguments in Ohio, I have determined that this banter must occur in most college locker rooms. There is absolutely nothing to gain from proving your state is better, besides pride, but nonetheless, I will never turn down a good challenge to defend Pennsylvania HS football.

In addition to locker room talk, the off-season training programs at Miami and UConn are pretty comparable. There are some small differences, like at Miami we can listen to music while we work out and our strength training incorporates more power lifts like power cleans, hang cleans, and that sort of stuff. One major difference is that Miami does not have an indoor practice field. Getting up four days a week in February in Ohio at 5:30 to run for an hour is not exactly ideal (no wonder we are lacking recruits from Florida). Our strength coach insures us that it could always be worse, as he has worn shorts to every single workout so far. God bless him. However, these workouts, just like UConn (although indoors), are necessary to succeed in Division 1 Football, as you either work for it or you don’t.

Since I transferred from D1 to D1, NCAA rules force me to sit out a season (ladies I’m single and have some free time…). I won’t get into this too much, but in my opinion when a 17-year-old commits to a college in June after his junior year in high school, he shouldn’t be punished if the situation doesn’t work out in his favor after two years.

Thankfully, I find myself coming in with a brand new coaching staff and being able to play on the same team again with my younger brother Steve. Also, my easy-on-the-eyes older sister, an ex-super star athlete at UNC will be living nearby in Ohio for the next year. Oh and did I mention that Miami is known for “its beautiful campus, business school, and attractive women with questionable morals.” Most of the girls seem to spend more time getting ready for class in the morning than I do studying for a semester’s worth of exams. Me, still rocking the sweats and Davy Crocket winter hats. Miami actually has a campus. A street with restaurants, bars, you name it; very unfamiliar territory up in Storrs.

That’s all I got. We play Northwestern, Cincinnati, Boise State, and open up with Kentucky this year so we definitely have our hands full. I’m sure you will be able to catch a game of ours on some random Tuesday night in the fall. That’s how it goes down in the MAC baby. And who knows, maybe International Bowl 2010, UConn v Miami. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Cue Alanis Morissette.